Humble Pie
Proper 26, Year A, October 3o
Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples, 2“The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat; 3therefore, do whatever they teach you and follow it; but do not do as they do, for they do not practice what they teach. 4They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others; but they themselves are unwilling to lift a finger to move them. 5They do all their deeds to be seen by others; for they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long. 6They love to have the place of honor at banquets and the best seats in the synagogues, 7and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have people call them rabbi. 8But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all students. 9And call no one your father on earth, for you have one Father—the one in heaven. 10Nor are you to be called instructors, for you have one instructor, the Messiah. 11The greatest among you will be your servant. 12All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted. (Matthew 23:1-12)
This week, in Sacred Conversations, our discussion about faith and practice morphed into a discussion about driving in Boston. There was a lot to be said about that topic, as you might know. After our meeting, I vowed to be a better Christian while in the car. That lasted about day, when someone cut me off on the pike and pounded on my horn and yelled to no one, “What Makes You More Entitled than ME?????”
Clearly, I forgot about my vow. And the fact that everyone else on the road is also a beloved child of God. Sigh. Time to chew on a little humble pie.
Sometimes, my dearly beloved thinks that I am a “know it all.” Granted, I do KNOW a lot, but it appears I am not always right. We often will get into these, arguments, errr, conversations, over something we remember differently, and usually end up betting who is correct. I always bet a pair of shoes. However, I am often over-confident and zealous in my righteousness, which renders me less than lovable to Liz, not to mention, at times hurtful. A slice of “humble pie”1 is usually in order.
Eating humble pie, if you aren’t familiar with the phrase, simply means, taking some time out to be humble, to not lift yourself up as superior over all, but rather, focus on what it means to be humble.
Humble. The root of humble comes from “humus” or the earth. So to be humble, in my opinion, is to remember our primeval origins--we come from the soil. (Not that I am saying we need to treat ourselves like “dirt”). We are adamah--the literal translation of “Adam” in hebrew is “adamah” or earth creature.
It is from the earth, the humus, that our Creator shaped and formed us, in God’s image,in beauty, in simplicity, in pure lush love. Humility--it doesn’t mean becoming a doormat. Rather, it means, remembering our very essence as part of the whole creation of God.
Which, all too often, we forget--that we are part of the whole, a strand in the web, a thread in the tapestry. Isolated, we are just that--a strand without identity, a part without a place, separated, isolated, alone.
And when that becomes our truth, then, yes, we have to hunker into ourselves, and start to self-aggrandize, become entitled, tuck ourselves into a silo and be the holder of All Knowledge, because to be wrong is to be vulnerable and susceptible. Well, at least for me.
In today’s text, I am not sure what is going on internally with the Pharisees and Scribes. I am not sure where they lost their way on being a beloved child of God. But Jesus is very clear in pointing out their hubris, their empty practices of faith, so much so that he calls the crowds and the disciples to follow what they say, but not what they do--”They do not practice what they preach”.
In fact, Jesus accuses the Pharisees of placing a heavy burden on the shoulders of others that they aren’t willing to lift themselves. What is that burden? The yoke, or burden is the Law, the Torah--symbolizing the kingdom of heaven as compared to the kingdom of this world.
The Pharisees had the point of the Law all mixed up. When the Law was given to Moses, to pass on to the people, the people knew they were the chosen ones of God. They knew they belonged to God. The point of the Torah, which more accurately means “instruction” rather than a list of rules that cannot be broken, was to help God’s people to live into their wholeness as a community, and to be a source of understanding justice.
Unfortunately, the Pharisees had twisted the law around so that the only way one could be a child of God was to follow the rules, as they saw fit. The irony in keeping the Law is that, for a Law-keeper to be righteous, many others must not keep the Law themselves. A righteous man, for example, must be a man, not a woman. He must abstain from everything that my cause him to be unclean. He can’t have contact with blood, which is impossible for women during menstruation. Midwives delivered babies and were made unclean because childbirth is a bloody process for the attendants as well as for the labouring mother.
A righteous man must not handle uncooked meat, yet he must also eat meat on the Sabbath, which requires others to handle the meat and cook it for him. Handling cured leather is lawful, but raw skin is not. Therefore, someone else must skin the hides from animals and cure it. The list goes on and on.
The point is that to be righteous before the Law requires ensuring that others have no opportunity to be similarly righteous. The division between Law-keepers and Law-breakers is profound and ultimately results in the oppression of the very people upon whom the Law-keeper relies for his righteous status.
Practicing the Law, in the ways the Pharisees set forth, does not set everyone free, in other words.
In other gospels, Jesus chides the Pharisees for getting caught up in the minutiae of the Law so much so that they overlook the purpose of the law, which is to ensure justice among all people. The Law, then, should not set some people above others, creating distinct classes in society, yet this is exactly how the Pharisees and religious leaders have interpreted it.
Hence, Jesus serves up some humble pie, capping off this text with these words: The greatest among you will be your servant. All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.
It’s clear that Jesus is calling the religious authorities out of their hypocrisy. His criticisms are all about the ways religion can morph into something that is more about elevating ourselves, than about what we can do for God or our neighbor. Basically, he is saying, “it’s not all about you.” It’s about us loving God and our neighbor with all we have and with all we are.
I am pretty sure that none of you are here today to show off how pious and exalted you are--where in the 21st century, going to “church” is not part of the collective norm. In fact, I would bet that most of you show up here on Sunday mornings because you want to be better people and more whole. Which is a very good thing.
Where that can be dangerous, I think, is when church becomes “all about me”--what do I get out of it, how can I grow, what is meaningful for me....and forgetting that being in Christian community is really, learning how to love God and our neighbors--and then actually DOING it.
Yes, this place called Church is about growing in faith, and practicing that faith so that justice becomes real for all. And sometimes that results in putting what “I want” on the back burner to be thoughtful of what is good for the whole. It’s really not all about “us” or “me”, but about how we can be peace and love and welcome to the corner of the world in which we live.
As a child, I remember making mud pies with much relish and mess and joy. They were humble, these pies, and yet so much fun--each one different, and all made of the same stuff. I like to think that when we live in humility, we really are remembering that the ground of our being is being held in the hands of the One who created each of us, in her image, all from the same stuff, all beloved children of God, full of light and love and welcome.
And that humble pie, well, it isn’t all that bad then, is it?
Amen.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Another Road
Another Road
Sunday, January 8 2012 EpiphanyB Matthew 2:1-12
It was July 1985.
My new used previously owned by a little old lady who never drove it Buick Skylark was packed with all of my earthly belongings, including my guitar, my favorite books, a few clothes, and picture albums. And then, I just drove away, across North Dakota, through Minnesota, Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, Georgia into Florida, and across the state to the Atlantic coast to my first job ever as a college graduate. And I made it without a cell phone or GPS, which now when I think upon this, is a wonder of all wonders.
And looking back, I am amazed. What was I thinking? A midwestern 20 year old moving about as far away as I could from family and friends and anything familiar. However, in spite of being naive and clueless, I knew that I was being pulled, pulled, yes even guided to this particular job as a youth minister in a Presbyterian Church--even though I was Lutheran, even though I didn’t know what grits were and even though I really had a very hard time understanding people when they spoke with thick Southern drawls. My boss was aloof, (but kind)...even though I had no idea how to be a youth minister in a church (I never even had gone to youth group before) except for some volunteer work in a youth organization in college.
And yet, I think that journey to that foreign land of Florida where it was hot and muggy all of the time, and people were crazy about Gators and Seminole football, and where people actually ATE gator tail and boiled peanuts and pickled pigs feet, well, that journey was to a sort of Bethlehem...a place that changed everything and shaped me. God pulled me there, to that city of live oaks dripping with spanish moss filled with chiggers...I followed a hunch, and it was transformative. Oh my, and once I landed there, there were so many guiding stars that led me on different journeys, on other roads....and my faith was formed and deepened and opened, and somehow, circuitously and over time, that journey finds me here, in this moment...
What about you?
What sorts of roads have you traveled that led you into something that changed you more than you ever thought? How did you get here, today, to this moment? How is it that you find yourself in this place in your life, where being at worship with a Beloved Community, being in faithful relationship in a Christian community matters to you? In short, how has grace lured you here, to this space and time in your life?
Some of you are here because of guiding stars in your lives, and some of you have followed hunches or your guts. Some of you know that God called you here. Some of you maybe have no idea how you got to this place in your life, but you are grateful to be here. Or not. Some of you have been lured to this place by bands of heavenly angels (like the shepherds in Luke’s gospel) ,and some of you in this place in your life because of a weird anomaly, a blip in the sky, (like the Wise Ones).
You see, friends, this is, in part, what the Epiphany story is all about. It’s about Journey, about seeking, about finding, about asking others where you might find, and being on a journey together. It’s about God, being willing to do pretty much anything to be in touch with us--for God wishes to be known, and will pretty much do what it takes so that we might brush up against God’s mystery and be transformed by it. (Crimson Rambler, blogpost, 1.7.12)
Indeed, Epiphany becomes a celebration about God’s revelation to unexpected people-- like the Wise ones from the east.
In antiquity,
these foreigners from the East were NOT models of religious piety.
They were magicians, fortune tellers, star-gazers, astrologers. Heretics. They didn’t worship the Right God. They were the wrong race, the wrong religion, the wrong denomination. They don’t know how to really worship--as in Jewish practices, or Greek practices of the day. The gifts they gave, although lovely, were actually elements used in their magic. In fact, these Magi would have been, much better models of unbelief and false trust, rather than models of faith. And yet, Matthew, makes them the heros of one of the first stories in his book about Jesus the Christ.
Again, dare I say it? Epiphany is a celebration of God’s revelation to unexpected people--magi and shepherd, to outcasts and enemies and those on the margin. Not necessarily to the elite, the powerful, the most religious, the most holy. It’s about God, not appearing in power or spreadsheets or business practices or the most qualified and gifted, but appearing, intuitively, to the least, the lost, and the broken. The most vulnerable. (Bruce Epperly)--and yes, even to us, sitting in these pews, the seekers and the skeptics and cynics and believers. Why? Because God--because Love-- wishes to be known.
Do you have any idea how revolutionary this is?
How incredibly extravagant, no holds barred, risky this is?
So what does this Epiphany message whisper to us, an unruly and tame bunch of New England Congregationalists, struggling to balance a budget, to offer welcome, to be a presence, to love one another, to love the least of these?
It calls to us to look at the Magi, and what it meant to them to to find God’s presence in that stable--they were overwhelmed with Joy, so much so that they fell to their knees with awestruck humility. Meeting the Christ sent them home by another way--a new way, a different way.
The Epiphany message whispers to us that we ought to follow our guts, look for God’s leading in tiny signs and in unexpected voices, so that we might might be transformed by Love. When have we last “risked” with no holds bars so that others (the fringe) might know they are beloved? When have we dared to make a bold decision that might backfire, or might not? When have we listened to our collective intuition, or something as silly as a guiding star?
Dear ones, YOU are in an interim, transitional, liminal place. An Epiphany place, if you will. You are full of God’s grace and love, and yet you are being called to new directions as a church. You are asking defining questions about who you are uniquely called to serve, you are discerning different ways of being in ministry together. You love the journey you have been on, and you love the ‘Eliot Way’ and your fierce independence. And yet, no matter how you got here, there will be other roads to travel as you seek to be God’s people in the 21st century.
But the best thing about this Epiphany, is that God will do what it takes to show us the way--with hosts of angels and a sky full of guiding stars.
Our lives are filled with journeys, sisters and brothers.
Stop for a moment, again, and think about the journeys that have shaped and formed you, the journeys that have brought you to your knees in gratitude and sheer wonder, the journeys that have made you go in different directions and new roads...think about all of the guiding stars and angels that have lead you....
It is the same for our Church, for we are the church. We can look on our past, and marvel at the guiding stars of our past.
The risk-takers that built this building in 1957.
The risk-takers that made bold decisions to become Open and Affirming.
The risk takers that back in 1845 decided to actually become a new Christian Community.
We are full of sacred journeys...
which I would argue is really the point.
There is a new church start congregation whose final words of their covenant I find are incredibly resonant for the 21st century:
In our faithful sojourning
We do not walk alone.
God is present with us.
We have not yet arrived.
God continues to beckon.
We seek no destination. The sacred journey is our home. (UPUCC Covenant)
May our life together continue to be one of new roads and sacred journeys. Amen.
Sunday, January 8 2012 EpiphanyB Matthew 2:1-12
It was July 1985.
My new used previously owned by a little old lady who never drove it Buick Skylark was packed with all of my earthly belongings, including my guitar, my favorite books, a few clothes, and picture albums. And then, I just drove away, across North Dakota, through Minnesota, Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, Georgia into Florida, and across the state to the Atlantic coast to my first job ever as a college graduate. And I made it without a cell phone or GPS, which now when I think upon this, is a wonder of all wonders.
And looking back, I am amazed. What was I thinking? A midwestern 20 year old moving about as far away as I could from family and friends and anything familiar. However, in spite of being naive and clueless, I knew that I was being pulled, pulled, yes even guided to this particular job as a youth minister in a Presbyterian Church--even though I was Lutheran, even though I didn’t know what grits were and even though I really had a very hard time understanding people when they spoke with thick Southern drawls. My boss was aloof, (but kind)...even though I had no idea how to be a youth minister in a church (I never even had gone to youth group before) except for some volunteer work in a youth organization in college.
And yet, I think that journey to that foreign land of Florida where it was hot and muggy all of the time, and people were crazy about Gators and Seminole football, and where people actually ATE gator tail and boiled peanuts and pickled pigs feet, well, that journey was to a sort of Bethlehem...a place that changed everything and shaped me. God pulled me there, to that city of live oaks dripping with spanish moss filled with chiggers...I followed a hunch, and it was transformative. Oh my, and once I landed there, there were so many guiding stars that led me on different journeys, on other roads....and my faith was formed and deepened and opened, and somehow, circuitously and over time, that journey finds me here, in this moment...
What about you?
What sorts of roads have you traveled that led you into something that changed you more than you ever thought? How did you get here, today, to this moment? How is it that you find yourself in this place in your life, where being at worship with a Beloved Community, being in faithful relationship in a Christian community matters to you? In short, how has grace lured you here, to this space and time in your life?
Some of you are here because of guiding stars in your lives, and some of you have followed hunches or your guts. Some of you know that God called you here. Some of you maybe have no idea how you got to this place in your life, but you are grateful to be here. Or not. Some of you have been lured to this place by bands of heavenly angels (like the shepherds in Luke’s gospel) ,and some of you in this place in your life because of a weird anomaly, a blip in the sky, (like the Wise Ones).
You see, friends, this is, in part, what the Epiphany story is all about. It’s about Journey, about seeking, about finding, about asking others where you might find, and being on a journey together. It’s about God, being willing to do pretty much anything to be in touch with us--for God wishes to be known, and will pretty much do what it takes so that we might brush up against God’s mystery and be transformed by it. (Crimson Rambler, blogpost, 1.7.12)
Indeed, Epiphany becomes a celebration about God’s revelation to unexpected people-- like the Wise ones from the east.
In antiquity,
these foreigners from the East were NOT models of religious piety.
They were magicians, fortune tellers, star-gazers, astrologers. Heretics. They didn’t worship the Right God. They were the wrong race, the wrong religion, the wrong denomination. They don’t know how to really worship--as in Jewish practices, or Greek practices of the day. The gifts they gave, although lovely, were actually elements used in their magic. In fact, these Magi would have been, much better models of unbelief and false trust, rather than models of faith. And yet, Matthew, makes them the heros of one of the first stories in his book about Jesus the Christ.
Again, dare I say it? Epiphany is a celebration of God’s revelation to unexpected people--magi and shepherd, to outcasts and enemies and those on the margin. Not necessarily to the elite, the powerful, the most religious, the most holy. It’s about God, not appearing in power or spreadsheets or business practices or the most qualified and gifted, but appearing, intuitively, to the least, the lost, and the broken. The most vulnerable. (Bruce Epperly)--and yes, even to us, sitting in these pews, the seekers and the skeptics and cynics and believers. Why? Because God--because Love-- wishes to be known.
Do you have any idea how revolutionary this is?
How incredibly extravagant, no holds barred, risky this is?
So what does this Epiphany message whisper to us, an unruly and tame bunch of New England Congregationalists, struggling to balance a budget, to offer welcome, to be a presence, to love one another, to love the least of these?
It calls to us to look at the Magi, and what it meant to them to to find God’s presence in that stable--they were overwhelmed with Joy, so much so that they fell to their knees with awestruck humility. Meeting the Christ sent them home by another way--a new way, a different way.
The Epiphany message whispers to us that we ought to follow our guts, look for God’s leading in tiny signs and in unexpected voices, so that we might might be transformed by Love. When have we last “risked” with no holds bars so that others (the fringe) might know they are beloved? When have we dared to make a bold decision that might backfire, or might not? When have we listened to our collective intuition, or something as silly as a guiding star?
Dear ones, YOU are in an interim, transitional, liminal place. An Epiphany place, if you will. You are full of God’s grace and love, and yet you are being called to new directions as a church. You are asking defining questions about who you are uniquely called to serve, you are discerning different ways of being in ministry together. You love the journey you have been on, and you love the ‘Eliot Way’ and your fierce independence. And yet, no matter how you got here, there will be other roads to travel as you seek to be God’s people in the 21st century.
But the best thing about this Epiphany, is that God will do what it takes to show us the way--with hosts of angels and a sky full of guiding stars.
Our lives are filled with journeys, sisters and brothers.
Stop for a moment, again, and think about the journeys that have shaped and formed you, the journeys that have brought you to your knees in gratitude and sheer wonder, the journeys that have made you go in different directions and new roads...think about all of the guiding stars and angels that have lead you....
It is the same for our Church, for we are the church. We can look on our past, and marvel at the guiding stars of our past.
The risk-takers that built this building in 1957.
The risk-takers that made bold decisions to become Open and Affirming.
The risk takers that back in 1845 decided to actually become a new Christian Community.
We are full of sacred journeys...
which I would argue is really the point.
There is a new church start congregation whose final words of their covenant I find are incredibly resonant for the 21st century:
In our faithful sojourning
We do not walk alone.
God is present with us.
We have not yet arrived.
God continues to beckon.
We seek no destination. The sacred journey is our home. (UPUCC Covenant)
May our life together continue to be one of new roads and sacred journeys. Amen.
Wait
Advent 1B
Isaiah 64:1-9, Matthew 13: 13-27
One of my favorite books from my childhood is Ramona the Pest. Remember her?
She had the doll with blue hair named Chevrolet (because she loved the word), a big sister named Beezus, and a best friend named Howie. When she first went to kindergarten, her beautiful, sweet teacher, Miss Binney, told Ramona to “sit here for the present”...and Ramona, not very good at waiting, would not budge from her seat, because if she didn’t, she would receive the present. She tried to imagine how the present would be wrapped--with curly ribbons? a big fat bow? Would the wrapping paper be shiny?
What would the present be?
A new doll, a friend for Chevrolet?
It was hard, this waiting. Ramona had scraggly hair, and one of her classmates, Susan, had blond shiny curls that Ramona was dying to tug to see if they would spring back, like a real spring. It was hard to resist, but she noticed that Miss Binney did not promise any one else a present, so she was going to sit tight. The class went outside for recess, and Ramona stayed in her seat, because she wasn’t budging until she got the present. When Miss Binney saw her glued to her chair, she asked Ramona about it.
“I am waiting for the present”
Miss Binney was confused.
Then she realized that Ramona had mis-understood. She tried to explain to Ramona that “for the present” really meant, “for now”.
Poor Ramona.
She tried hard to forgive Miss Binney, since it was her first kindergarten class,
but she was devastated.
She had sat so still, and waited, for nothing.
Has that ever happened to you? Waiting for nothing?
I am not great at waiting myself.
Waiting makes me anxious.
It’s not that I am necessarily an impatient person, but rather, I am the kind of person who needs resolution.
So, I don’t wait around. I am the kind of person that opens Christmas presents early, and can’t wait for others to open my gifts.
I think the outcome of the waiting for me is the crux of the issue. What if what I anticipate, like Ramona, turns out to be nothing? What if my beloved DOESNT think the gift if perfect? I want to know, now.
I have to hand it Ramona, however. Even though waiting was hard for her, she clearly actively waited. She dreamed about the many possibilities of that present. She remained in the tension between the present, and the future, full of an anticipation and wonder. Waiting, is an Art.
Today, we begin a new church year, and a new season, of Advent.
And we, are called to Wait.
Advent gives us the space, and the time to wait with intention for the miracle of Christmas, to happen all over again.
But this isn’t easy, when the stuff of daily life urges, presses us toward the resolution of our waiting. Our commercial culture shouts at us to MAKE Christmas happen. Black Friday yells at us to shop and get a good bargain; Buy Local Saturday stills tells us to go out and shop, Cyber Monday tells us to get online and browse and buy.... Even if we don’t participate in any of these shopping extravaganzas, it’s still hard to avoid the noise of it. Half my newspaper on Thursday was advertisements. It was hard not to notice them.
I am lured, though, by the marketing schemes--hurry up, decorate, wrap gifts, write all the bulletins--get it all done now, so Christmas can happen on my own terms.
And there is the crux of the matter. No matter how hard I might try, I can’t make Christmas happen. God makes Christmas happen.
Advent is the art of waiting for God to show up.
Advent is the time where, in spite of everything else, we are invited to wonder,
and to search for a renewed hope in the simple crazy story of god stealing into our world through the laboring cries of an unwed mother.
Advent is a time of lament, even. Our reading from the prophet Isaiah reveals the ancients crying out to God to rip open the heavens and make the mountains tremble before their adversaries. This is post-exilic Israel, when God’s people were no longer under Babylonian rule, and were invited to return home, to Jerusalem, by their new dominators, the Persians. As it turned out, after years and years and years of waiting, going home wasn’t all that easy. There was tension and unrest, within the community and against the community. There was a terrible reality of the absence of God.
Tear open the heavens, the cries heave forth!
And even in the cry for God to break through the skies, there is confession. “We sinned, our iniquities, like the wind, take us away...” Waiting for God requires a bit of self-reflection.
It’s a bit gloomy, I realize, this text from the ancients.
Yet, in some ways, it gives shape to the distance between now---and the unknown future where we trust that God will break into our world. It provides the setting for why we might actually NEED God...
Christmas is a long way away, and where is God now?
Where is God, when the economy crumbling,
and people pepper spray others in Wal-Mart so they might get the last x-box?
Where is God, when my cancer returns bigger than before,
or when the polar bears are drowning because of climate change,
my God, where are you?
Tear open the heavens, God,
and save them,
give them relief,
light in the darkness,
hope in the hopeless.
We know you can tear those heavens apart...
We know that we aren’t always perfect,
and yet, o God,
Remember us.
Remember us,
Your people.
Indeed, in our Advent waiting, time of listening to the stories of our heart, to come to terms with our own shabby selves, where we turn away from God, and yet still want God. Advent is a time where we recognize, in spite of our questions and cries to an absent God, we still claim to be God’s beloved. “We are the clay, you are the potter, we are the work of your hands, we are ALL your people...”
So we pray, we pray for God to tear open the heavens, because the world needs a kiss of heaven, and yet in Advent, we give over the temptation to make God show up in our image of how we think God should show up.
Our gospel reminds us of this very fact.
Our Mark passage is a piece of a longer text in which Jesus has described a time of terrible suffering and persecution and war. It is “apocalyptic” literature, meaning that the current events and political situations are interpreted cosmically. The setting for those hearing these words from Mark would have lived through the siege of Jerusalem which ended the Jewish Roman war of 66-70CE. These Jews and Christians Jews were expecting God to tear open the heavens, and provide a Messiah, a great warrrior who would lead them to freedom from Roman domination. They expected that God would fight the war with them, and for them.
But Jesus says otherwise. It is AFTER, after the suffering is when I will return. War is not the means by which God’s intentions for fullness of life will come about. Jesus will not exercise power like the world, nor will the world change with conventional tools and tactics...
Keep Awake...
because I will come most unexpectedly...
That’s the hardest part of waiting, don’t you think?
Staying alert, staying open, setting aside your expectations, so when God does show up, we might recognize Her, instead of feeling like we waiting for nothing...
Advent.
Have any of you ever had an Advent Calendar? They come in all shapes and sizes.
I like the ones that look little house, and there are lots of doors on it, one for each day of Advent. Behind each door, there is a surprise--either a question or candy or a Bible verse---that leads one deeper into the wonder of waiting and anticipating God coming to us...
Today,
We have opened the first door,
and behind it,
we are reminded to wait....
To wait like the ancients of Israel,
Knowing our shortfalls and yet being bold enough to demand God to show up and kiss us with heaven...
And to wait like the first century Christians,
Awake and open to the unexpected,
and of course,
to wait like Ramona, a child on her first day of kindergarten,
full of dreams and wonder and imagination
for the many ways God might be born into our world, again, this year.
Amen.
Advent 1B
Isaiah 64:1-9, Matthew 13: 13-27
One of my favorite books from my childhood is Ramona the Pest. Remember her?
She had the doll with blue hair named Chevrolet (because she loved the word), a big sister named Beezus, and a best friend named Howie. When she first went to kindergarten, her beautiful, sweet teacher, Miss Binney, told Ramona to “sit here for the present”...and Ramona, not very good at waiting, would not budge from her seat, because if she didn’t, she would receive the present. She tried to imagine how the present would be wrapped--with curly ribbons? a big fat bow? Would the wrapping paper be shiny?
What would the present be?
A new doll, a friend for Chevrolet?
It was hard, this waiting. Ramona had scraggly hair, and one of her classmates, Susan, had blond shiny curls that Ramona was dying to tug to see if they would spring back, like a real spring. It was hard to resist, but she noticed that Miss Binney did not promise any one else a present, so she was going to sit tight. The class went outside for recess, and Ramona stayed in her seat, because she wasn’t budging until she got the present. When Miss Binney saw her glued to her chair, she asked Ramona about it.
“I am waiting for the present”
Miss Binney was confused.
Then she realized that Ramona had mis-understood. She tried to explain to Ramona that “for the present” really meant, “for now”.
Poor Ramona.
She tried hard to forgive Miss Binney, since it was her first kindergarten class,
but she was devastated.
She had sat so still, and waited, for nothing.
Has that ever happened to you? Waiting for nothing?
I am not great at waiting myself.
Waiting makes me anxious.
It’s not that I am necessarily an impatient person, but rather, I am the kind of person who needs resolution.
So, I don’t wait around. I am the kind of person that opens Christmas presents early, and can’t wait for others to open my gifts.
I think the outcome of the waiting for me is the crux of the issue. What if what I anticipate, like Ramona, turns out to be nothing? What if my beloved DOESNT think the gift if perfect? I want to know, now.
I have to hand it Ramona, however. Even though waiting was hard for her, she clearly actively waited. She dreamed about the many possibilities of that present. She remained in the tension between the present, and the future, full of an anticipation and wonder. Waiting, is an Art.
Today, we begin a new church year, and a new season, of Advent.
And we, are called to Wait.
Advent gives us the space, and the time to wait with intention for the miracle of Christmas, to happen all over again.
But this isn’t easy, when the stuff of daily life urges, presses us toward the resolution of our waiting. Our commercial culture shouts at us to MAKE Christmas happen. Black Friday yells at us to shop and get a good bargain; Buy Local Saturday stills tells us to go out and shop, Cyber Monday tells us to get online and browse and buy.... Even if we don’t participate in any of these shopping extravaganzas, it’s still hard to avoid the noise of it. Half my newspaper on Thursday was advertisements. It was hard not to notice them.
I am lured, though, by the marketing schemes--hurry up, decorate, wrap gifts, write all the bulletins--get it all done now, so Christmas can happen on my own terms.
And there is the crux of the matter. No matter how hard I might try, I can’t make Christmas happen. God makes Christmas happen.
Advent is the art of waiting for God to show up.
Advent is the time where, in spite of everything else, we are invited to wonder,
and to search for a renewed hope in the simple crazy story of god stealing into our world through the laboring cries of an unwed mother.
Advent is a time of lament, even. Our reading from the prophet Isaiah reveals the ancients crying out to God to rip open the heavens and make the mountains tremble before their adversaries. This is post-exilic Israel, when God’s people were no longer under Babylonian rule, and were invited to return home, to Jerusalem, by their new dominators, the Persians. As it turned out, after years and years and years of waiting, going home wasn’t all that easy. There was tension and unrest, within the community and against the community. There was a terrible reality of the absence of God.
Tear open the heavens, the cries heave forth!
And even in the cry for God to break through the skies, there is confession. “We sinned, our iniquities, like the wind, take us away...” Waiting for God requires a bit of self-reflection.
It’s a bit gloomy, I realize, this text from the ancients.
Yet, in some ways, it gives shape to the distance between now---and the unknown future where we trust that God will break into our world. It provides the setting for why we might actually NEED God...
Christmas is a long way away, and where is God now?
Where is God, when the economy crumbling,
and people pepper spray others in Wal-Mart so they might get the last x-box?
Where is God, when my cancer returns bigger than before,
or when the polar bears are drowning because of climate change,
my God, where are you?
Tear open the heavens, God,
and save them,
give them relief,
light in the darkness,
hope in the hopeless.
We know you can tear those heavens apart...
We know that we aren’t always perfect,
and yet, o God,
Remember us.
Remember us,
Your people.
Indeed, in our Advent waiting, time of listening to the stories of our heart, to come to terms with our own shabby selves, where we turn away from God, and yet still want God. Advent is a time where we recognize, in spite of our questions and cries to an absent God, we still claim to be God’s beloved. “We are the clay, you are the potter, we are the work of your hands, we are ALL your people...”
So we pray, we pray for God to tear open the heavens, because the world needs a kiss of heaven, and yet in Advent, we give over the temptation to make God show up in our image of how we think God should show up.
Our gospel reminds us of this very fact.
Our Mark passage is a piece of a longer text in which Jesus has described a time of terrible suffering and persecution and war. It is “apocalyptic” literature, meaning that the current events and political situations are interpreted cosmically. The setting for those hearing these words from Mark would have lived through the siege of Jerusalem which ended the Jewish Roman war of 66-70CE. These Jews and Christians Jews were expecting God to tear open the heavens, and provide a Messiah, a great warrrior who would lead them to freedom from Roman domination. They expected that God would fight the war with them, and for them.
But Jesus says otherwise. It is AFTER, after the suffering is when I will return. War is not the means by which God’s intentions for fullness of life will come about. Jesus will not exercise power like the world, nor will the world change with conventional tools and tactics...
Keep Awake...
because I will come most unexpectedly...
That’s the hardest part of waiting, don’t you think?
Staying alert, staying open, setting aside your expectations, so when God does show up, we might recognize Her, instead of feeling like we waiting for nothing...
Advent.
Have any of you ever had an Advent Calendar? They come in all shapes and sizes.
I like the ones that look little house, and there are lots of doors on it, one for each day of Advent. Behind each door, there is a surprise--either a question or candy or a Bible verse---that leads one deeper into the wonder of waiting and anticipating God coming to us...
Today,
We have opened the first door,
and behind it,
we are reminded to wait....
To wait like the ancients of Israel,
Knowing our shortfalls and yet being bold enough to demand God to show up and kiss us with heaven...
And to wait like the first century Christians,
Awake and open to the unexpected,
and of course,
to wait like Ramona, a child on her first day of kindergarten,
full of dreams and wonder and imagination
for the many ways God might be born into our world, again, this year.
Amen.
On The Loose
“On the Loose!”
Epiphany 6B January 2012
1 Corinthians 9:24-27
Do you not know that in a race the runners all compete, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win it. 25Athletes exercise self-control in all things; they do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable one. 26So I do not run aimlessly, nor do I box as though beating the air; 27but I punish my body and enslave it, so that after proclaiming to others I myself should not be disqualified.
Mark 1: 40-45
40 A leper* came to him begging him, and kneeling* he said to him, ‘If you choose, you can make me clean.’ 41Moved with pity,* Jesus* stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, ‘I do choose. Be made clean!’ 42Immediately the leprosy* left him, and he was made clean. 43After sternly warning him he sent him away at once, 44saying to him, ‘See that you say nothing to anyone; but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.’ 45But he went out and began to proclaim it freely, and to spread the word, so that Jesus* could no longer go into a town openly, but stayed out in the country; and people came to him from every quarter.
On the Loose!
When I was teaching, my room was directly down the hall from the science lab. Since the science teacher was all about hands on teaching, her 5th and 6th grade classroom was filled with all kinds of, well, interesting creature. There were several guinea pigs, a snake or two, fish of all kinds, a pair of hamsters named Lunch and Snack, herds of mice, rabbits, and more. The children loved caring for these animals, and earning the opportunity to hold them during the school day.
It was not rare for an animal to break out of a cage--or sneak out of a crate that was inadvertently left open by an absent minded child. The whole hallway would be alerted by excited children and a worried teacher with a phrase like, “Lunch is on the loose! Watch out for him!” Being a little bit skittish about tiny furry rodents running loose, I kept on high alert.
On the loose! It’s kind of exciting to be on the loose ourselves, isn’t it? It’s the opposite of being leashed. When was the last time you were “on the loose?”
Was it a weekend getaway? Or maybe a giant shoe sale? Prowling around an antique store for no reason at all except for the sheer fun of it? Planning a no holds barred surprise for someone? Engaging with an activity with all of your passion and energy and joy and commitment?
On the loose.
Let me tell you this--Jesus is totally on the loose in Mark. After he is baptized, he goes into the wilderness for 40 days, comes back, calls a bunch of fishermen to follow him, throws out a demon in the synagogue, healed Simon’s mother-in-law, becomes instantly popular with the sick and demon-possessed, disappears to the wilderness to pray, travels through out Galilee as a healer, and then breaks all social boundaries and religious boundaries by TOUCHING a leper and choosing to heal him.
This is all in the first chapter of Mark. We could subtitle the chapter: Jesus Unleashed. But let’s slow down for a minute, and explore our text frame by frame. In doing so, we might encouraged to let loose more in our faith, and be bold in our calling.
First frame:
A leper* came to him begging him, and kneeling* he said to him, ‘If you choose, you can make me clean.
What a way to approach the Holy. This leper, who is at the bottom of the social order, the one outside of any religious acceptableness, approaches the Holy, and believes--no , knows that the holy has the power to help him, and offers the holy the chance to do so.
I don’t think I ever have approached God in this way, but it’s something to think about. The leper approaches with confidence, and knowledge,and humbleness that is not groveling.
I am wondering, how do you approach the Holy? When you have a situation, a need? Do you believe the Holy is there? Do you believe in the connection?
Recently, someone I know, who was unemployed and searching, said to me:
"Finally, I just said, God, I know you have a place for me. I am tired of trying too hard to figure it out. I trust you. You know me. Just lead me." And you know? She lived much more calmly once she surrendered control. Eventually, she found a job. In the meantime, she experienced a kind of freedom that comes from letting go of that which you have no control.
Frame Two:
41Moved with pity,* Jesus* stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, ‘I do choose. Be made clean!’
Scholarship has made much of the phrase, “moved with pity” It can be translated as pity/compassion, or as anger. Literally, Jesus looked at the man, he ‘snorted like a war horse.’
Now that’s some kind of anger. It’s deeply rooted, instinctive even. As perhaps it must have been. I think both translations work--
Why couldn’t Jesus have had pity on the man who was suffering so and also be angry at a world that so labels and isolates and excludes those struck down by such ailments? More than that, why couldn’t Jesus also be angry with a religious system which declared such a one as this utterly cut off from the love and care of God?
For that’s what it had come to be, of course. Those who contracted this disease were forced to live with others similarly afflicted --- away from the stuff of normal life in community --- their families, their friends, their occupations, and yes, their places of worship. The way it lived out, particularly in that time and place, it would have appeared that they were even abandoned by God.
Notice that Jesus does not talk with the man about repentance, but has pity and touches the man saying, “I do choose. Be made clean!” (Mk. 1:41) I venture that Jesus simply didn’t see anything unclean, sinful or deficient in this man with leprosy. Unlike the prevailing attitude of his day, Jesus did not see illness as punishment from God. Some things are simply misfortune, not judgment. Bad things happen to good people. The rain falls on the just and the unjust alike. We wish that Jesus was around to reverse every misfortune, but God loves us in the midst of all things. .
The attitude that misfortune is the result of sin or punishment from God still prevails today. In the rhetoric of presidential primaries, those who are poor are talked about much like lepers. Candidates have said, “I don’t to make black people’s live better by giving them someone else’s money, I want to help them earn their money, so they can go out and provide for themselves and their families.” What if they held some of these debates with the 40% of Americans on food stamps who actually have jobs, but the low wage environment doesn’t guarantee a decent living that puts food on the table. We do not have over 8% unemployment and hunger in America because people are lazy, but because there are not enough decent jobs.
I wonder, who are the other “lepers” in our society?
Frame 3
43After sternly warning him he sent him away at once, 44saying to him, ‘See that you say nothing to anyone; but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.’ 45But he went out and began to proclaim it freely, and to spread the word, so that Jesus* could no longer go into a town openly, but stayed out in the country; and people came to him from every quarter.
The former leper is on the loose!!! You might wonder why indeed Jesus tells the healed one that he needs to go to the priest and make the offering for his healing. Some speculate that Jesus was trying to ease the leper’s re-entry into society. If the priest acknowledges the healing, then the leper can go anywhere , talk to anyone, no restrictions at all. The leper, overjoyed, just begins to testify as to what happened. Why did he need the stamp of approval from the very institution that declared him unclean and outcast for so many years? His experience showed him that what he really needed was not social inclusion in an exclusive context, but instead an experience of the living God.
There is a You-Tube video that has been on the loose in the interwebs the past few weeks that has been a topic of great discussion in clergy settings. It features a young hip hop performance artist sharing a poem entitled, “Why I love Jesus but hate Religion”
The poet eschews religion for missing the point, for church being dead and ineffective, while at the same time professing a deep relationship with the living Christ. His message is convicting and freeing for many--you can tell by the 18 million viewings of the poem, and the scores of lively debate found in the comments sections that are underneath the video.
Religious professionals, as you can imagine, are threatened by this young person’s words that are striking a deep chord among the You-Tube youth generation. They assert that one can’t have Jesus without community, without the Church, without religion. Religion provides structure and holds people accountable to morals and mercy and justice. I do not disagree with these assertions.
However, the passion in the poet’s eyes and the sincerity of his art makes me pause. How are we different today that the religious institutions of antiquity that shunned the diseased? We all know that mainline denominations are on a decline, even the coolest of them all, our own United Church of Christ. How is it that the message of inclusion, of boundless love, of wholeness, of new life isn’t reaching the missing generations in our pews? Why isn’t it sticking?
I suspect it has something to do that the church--and we, as members of the church, --have forgotten in many ways how to be on the loose--free, risky, and unleashed in our message and unbridled in our living out the justice and love that we ourselves have experience, and that we are called to offer.
Three questions:
How have you experienced wholeness and healing through being part of God’s Church?
How can we be more “on the loose?”
May we be unbridled and courageous and unleashed in our dreaming and in our scheming.
Amen
Epiphany 6B January 2012
1 Corinthians 9:24-27
Do you not know that in a race the runners all compete, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win it. 25Athletes exercise self-control in all things; they do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable one. 26So I do not run aimlessly, nor do I box as though beating the air; 27but I punish my body and enslave it, so that after proclaiming to others I myself should not be disqualified.
Mark 1: 40-45
40 A leper* came to him begging him, and kneeling* he said to him, ‘If you choose, you can make me clean.’ 41Moved with pity,* Jesus* stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, ‘I do choose. Be made clean!’ 42Immediately the leprosy* left him, and he was made clean. 43After sternly warning him he sent him away at once, 44saying to him, ‘See that you say nothing to anyone; but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.’ 45But he went out and began to proclaim it freely, and to spread the word, so that Jesus* could no longer go into a town openly, but stayed out in the country; and people came to him from every quarter.
On the Loose!
When I was teaching, my room was directly down the hall from the science lab. Since the science teacher was all about hands on teaching, her 5th and 6th grade classroom was filled with all kinds of, well, interesting creature. There were several guinea pigs, a snake or two, fish of all kinds, a pair of hamsters named Lunch and Snack, herds of mice, rabbits, and more. The children loved caring for these animals, and earning the opportunity to hold them during the school day.
It was not rare for an animal to break out of a cage--or sneak out of a crate that was inadvertently left open by an absent minded child. The whole hallway would be alerted by excited children and a worried teacher with a phrase like, “Lunch is on the loose! Watch out for him!” Being a little bit skittish about tiny furry rodents running loose, I kept on high alert.
On the loose! It’s kind of exciting to be on the loose ourselves, isn’t it? It’s the opposite of being leashed. When was the last time you were “on the loose?”
Was it a weekend getaway? Or maybe a giant shoe sale? Prowling around an antique store for no reason at all except for the sheer fun of it? Planning a no holds barred surprise for someone? Engaging with an activity with all of your passion and energy and joy and commitment?
On the loose.
Let me tell you this--Jesus is totally on the loose in Mark. After he is baptized, he goes into the wilderness for 40 days, comes back, calls a bunch of fishermen to follow him, throws out a demon in the synagogue, healed Simon’s mother-in-law, becomes instantly popular with the sick and demon-possessed, disappears to the wilderness to pray, travels through out Galilee as a healer, and then breaks all social boundaries and religious boundaries by TOUCHING a leper and choosing to heal him.
This is all in the first chapter of Mark. We could subtitle the chapter: Jesus Unleashed. But let’s slow down for a minute, and explore our text frame by frame. In doing so, we might encouraged to let loose more in our faith, and be bold in our calling.
First frame:
A leper* came to him begging him, and kneeling* he said to him, ‘If you choose, you can make me clean.
What a way to approach the Holy. This leper, who is at the bottom of the social order, the one outside of any religious acceptableness, approaches the Holy, and believes--no , knows that the holy has the power to help him, and offers the holy the chance to do so.
I don’t think I ever have approached God in this way, but it’s something to think about. The leper approaches with confidence, and knowledge,and humbleness that is not groveling.
I am wondering, how do you approach the Holy? When you have a situation, a need? Do you believe the Holy is there? Do you believe in the connection?
Recently, someone I know, who was unemployed and searching, said to me:
"Finally, I just said, God, I know you have a place for me. I am tired of trying too hard to figure it out. I trust you. You know me. Just lead me." And you know? She lived much more calmly once she surrendered control. Eventually, she found a job. In the meantime, she experienced a kind of freedom that comes from letting go of that which you have no control.
Frame Two:
41Moved with pity,* Jesus* stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, ‘I do choose. Be made clean!’
Scholarship has made much of the phrase, “moved with pity” It can be translated as pity/compassion, or as anger. Literally, Jesus looked at the man, he ‘snorted like a war horse.’
Now that’s some kind of anger. It’s deeply rooted, instinctive even. As perhaps it must have been. I think both translations work--
Why couldn’t Jesus have had pity on the man who was suffering so and also be angry at a world that so labels and isolates and excludes those struck down by such ailments? More than that, why couldn’t Jesus also be angry with a religious system which declared such a one as this utterly cut off from the love and care of God?
For that’s what it had come to be, of course. Those who contracted this disease were forced to live with others similarly afflicted --- away from the stuff of normal life in community --- their families, their friends, their occupations, and yes, their places of worship. The way it lived out, particularly in that time and place, it would have appeared that they were even abandoned by God.
Notice that Jesus does not talk with the man about repentance, but has pity and touches the man saying, “I do choose. Be made clean!” (Mk. 1:41) I venture that Jesus simply didn’t see anything unclean, sinful or deficient in this man with leprosy. Unlike the prevailing attitude of his day, Jesus did not see illness as punishment from God. Some things are simply misfortune, not judgment. Bad things happen to good people. The rain falls on the just and the unjust alike. We wish that Jesus was around to reverse every misfortune, but God loves us in the midst of all things. .
The attitude that misfortune is the result of sin or punishment from God still prevails today. In the rhetoric of presidential primaries, those who are poor are talked about much like lepers. Candidates have said, “I don’t to make black people’s live better by giving them someone else’s money, I want to help them earn their money, so they can go out and provide for themselves and their families.” What if they held some of these debates with the 40% of Americans on food stamps who actually have jobs, but the low wage environment doesn’t guarantee a decent living that puts food on the table. We do not have over 8% unemployment and hunger in America because people are lazy, but because there are not enough decent jobs.
I wonder, who are the other “lepers” in our society?
Frame 3
43After sternly warning him he sent him away at once, 44saying to him, ‘See that you say nothing to anyone; but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.’ 45But he went out and began to proclaim it freely, and to spread the word, so that Jesus* could no longer go into a town openly, but stayed out in the country; and people came to him from every quarter.
The former leper is on the loose!!! You might wonder why indeed Jesus tells the healed one that he needs to go to the priest and make the offering for his healing. Some speculate that Jesus was trying to ease the leper’s re-entry into society. If the priest acknowledges the healing, then the leper can go anywhere , talk to anyone, no restrictions at all. The leper, overjoyed, just begins to testify as to what happened. Why did he need the stamp of approval from the very institution that declared him unclean and outcast for so many years? His experience showed him that what he really needed was not social inclusion in an exclusive context, but instead an experience of the living God.
There is a You-Tube video that has been on the loose in the interwebs the past few weeks that has been a topic of great discussion in clergy settings. It features a young hip hop performance artist sharing a poem entitled, “Why I love Jesus but hate Religion”
The poet eschews religion for missing the point, for church being dead and ineffective, while at the same time professing a deep relationship with the living Christ. His message is convicting and freeing for many--you can tell by the 18 million viewings of the poem, and the scores of lively debate found in the comments sections that are underneath the video.
Religious professionals, as you can imagine, are threatened by this young person’s words that are striking a deep chord among the You-Tube youth generation. They assert that one can’t have Jesus without community, without the Church, without religion. Religion provides structure and holds people accountable to morals and mercy and justice. I do not disagree with these assertions.
However, the passion in the poet’s eyes and the sincerity of his art makes me pause. How are we different today that the religious institutions of antiquity that shunned the diseased? We all know that mainline denominations are on a decline, even the coolest of them all, our own United Church of Christ. How is it that the message of inclusion, of boundless love, of wholeness, of new life isn’t reaching the missing generations in our pews? Why isn’t it sticking?
I suspect it has something to do that the church--and we, as members of the church, --have forgotten in many ways how to be on the loose--free, risky, and unleashed in our message and unbridled in our living out the justice and love that we ourselves have experience, and that we are called to offer.
Three questions:
How have you experienced wholeness and healing through being part of God’s Church?
How can we be more “on the loose?”
May we be unbridled and courageous and unleashed in our dreaming and in our scheming.
Amen
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